


Illative Illocution

by recrudescence



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writting for Ubervirgin for the CM fic exchange. Prompt: Reid is finally introduced to Hotch's brother, Sean, as "the boyfriend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illative Illocution

The first time, Hotch has a cold and Reid picks up the phone without really thinking about it. After a requisite exchange of "who are _you_?"s, he can’t actually _explain _why he’s there so late and just stumbles over every other word until Sean laughs at him.

Hotch calmly takes control of the receiver and the situation once he’s finished blowing his nose.

They talk, and Reid’s name never comes up once. He’s pretending to be engrossed in a book, but he can’t help listening out for anything, just in case.

"He actually thinks he’s going to be able to take on a second job without extending the number of hours in a day," Hotch declares dryly once he’s finished. "Be glad you’ve never had the pleasure of being lectured by a know-it-all little brother."

It’s common knowledge that Reid is the little know-it-all brother of the BAU, so he refrains from making a comment about genetics and industriousness. Hotch has been barricading himself at work after hours less and less often lately.

\--

With the divorce papers signed and sent on their way weeks ago, Hotch seemed determined to transform his office into a living space, and after four consecutive days of not actually seeing him go home Reid hovered in the doorway of it; sleeves rolled up above sharp elbows, forever looking gangly next to Hotch’s crisp efficiency. "Did you want to get something to eat after work?" Going for casual and not able to gauge how far he was from the mark; he wasn’t _Morgan. _ "If you’re not busy."

As if that needed mentioning. Hotch always managed to be busy, arriving before everyone and leaving after, assuming he did. Morgan had already tried prying him out for drinks with the rest of them a couple times, and if _that _kind of charisma wasn’t going to convince Hotch, nothing would. Reid was prepared so completely for rejection that he didn’t have any idea how to react when Hotch lifted his head and asked how he felt about Indian food.

In the restaurant, Reid devoted himself to alternately rambling into empty air and steadily devouring poori, since he didn’t quite trust himself to eat his korma without accidentally making a mess.

Hotch studied him, long and hard. "Reid. You don’t need to feel obligated to entertain me."

Reid ended up laughing a little at that, honestly taken by surprise. "I don’t think anyone’s ever called me entertaining for not being able to keep quiet."

Wordlessly, Hotch reached across the table and shifted his tie away from the spinach dip.

\--

The fourth time, Hotch is in the shower when the phone rings and Reid picks up so he can finish without interruption. It’s a decent idea in theory, but then he actually blurts out that Hotch is showering before it occurs to him how incriminating that sounds.

It’s worse when tries to explain they’re cleaning up after a very gruesome case and just ends up sounding flustered and ridiculous and Sean can’t _not _realize that "gruesome crime scene" is really crappy code for "really amazing sex."

"He’ll call you back," Reid settles on eventually, uncertain when his voice climbed six octaves. "Bye."

Grimacing and shoving his face into a pillow is juvenile and pointless, but he does it anyway.

\--

Dinner out slowly changed to dinner in, and he went crazy at first trying to straighten his apartment and be presentable, only to have Hotch show up in jeans.

And he’d stared, and Hotch actually let his lips twitch into something that was almost a smile.

\--

The seventh time, Reid regards the caller ID with some trepidation and hopes Hotch comes in from the car sooner rather than later. He could always say he didn’t hear. Landlines make him uneasy because his mother would never answer any calls and he would either do it himself or, if she was in one of her moods, unplug the jack entirely. Reid eyes it for a minute, then picks up the phone.

Sean doesn’t miss a beat. "Hi there, Dr. Reid."

So he’s recognizable, even if Hotch hasn’t told his brother anything about them at all. Maybe Sean is just perceptive. It would make sense for that to run in the family. "Spencer. Is fine. You don’t have…um, Aaron’s right here." He thrusts the receiver in Hotch’s general direction and heads out of the room as nonchalantly as he can.

\--

"My mother never asked if I was seeing anyone. Either it never occurred to her or she just never thought it was a possibility for me."

"Mine didn’t either. Everyone always knew it would be Haley and me."

Reid was tempted to ask if he had talked about the change now that he was divorced, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention it. Hotch was pliant and comfortable beside him on the sofa, and he didn’t want to stop touching him.

\--

When Hotch announces that Sean plans to visit from New York, he’s unflappably taciturn about what this means for them. He doesn’t utter a word about whether it’s okay to touch or talk about certain things in front of his brother, if he’d rather Reid not be known as the person he’s dating—not that they’ve ever used the word _dating _to describe their arrangement—if he’s even out to Sean. Reid suspects not.

Hotch is a superior and they aren’t supposed to be involved, period, but coworkers are turning a collective blind eye because he imagines they think it’ll do both him and Hotch some good, having each other to lean on. It’s been hard enough keeping home and work divided; initially, he had been constantly worried about somehow giving something away, and it had taken far too much time learning not to call Hotch _sir_ when the BAU was behind them for the day. He still doesn’t address him by name much at all when they’re off the clock. If Hotch has noticed—of course he’s noticed—he hasn’t mentioned it, for which Reid is grateful.

The day Sean’s supposed to arrive, Reid is nursing a pulled calf muscle from the previous week and contemplating using it as an excuse to stay in for the night instead of driving to Hotch’s once he’s picked up Sean from the airport. Maybe it would be better for him to spend time with his brother alone. Then Hotch calls to ask where he is and Reid can’t think of anything to say at all.

It’s astonishing how descriptive the English language is. Embrocation refers to the process of applying balm in order to soothe an ache, but he knows not many people are aware of that, so he doesn’t say it even though it would take less time and time is always of the essence. Just screws the cap back on, slips into his shoes, and tells Hotch he’s heading out the door.

When he arrives and steps over threshold, the first thing he notices is that something smells incredible. Then Sean wanders out of the kitchen and every iota of Reid’s consciousness is suddenly electric-tipped and tension-riddled, not knowing how to filter his words or his memories and hoping not to accidentally declare, "Hello, this morning I made love to your brother and it was great," or something equally mortifying. If he’d brought his shoulder bag, at least he’d have something to clutch instead of idiotically twitching his fingers in a spastic little wave.

Sean just smiles, handsome and easy, as if he’s more accustomed to wearing the expression than his brother. "Hi."

"Ah." He shuffles a few feet towards him. "What’re you making?"

Hotch appears seemingly out of nowhere, in jeans and just as worthy of a double-take as he was that first time, palm automatically settling between Reid’s shoulders and guiding him forward before Reid has a chance to analyze the gesture to pieces. "Anything and everything. I’m taking advantage of having a culinary master on the premises for as long as I can. Sit."

He tentatively perches on a chair and the next thing he knows Hotch is on his knees, rolling up the leg of his pants, spreading his hand wide and warm over the skin, and asking if the pain’s gone down enough for Reid to stop wrapping his calf or if he’d like an Ace bandage. Then, over his shoulder, "Sean, you already know Spencer. Essentially." All of it too fast for Reid to do anything but blink and clutch at the cushion under him.

Sean doesn’t do anything but shrug and flash that smile again. "Yeah, we’ve bonded."

"I’m seeing someone. Do the math." Clipped and curt, not looking over at Sean because he’s still looking up at Reid, folding his trousers back into place with fingers that feel inhumanly hot even through the fabric.

"Dude, I’m not an _idiot. _"

Hotch’s hand pauses against an ankle, grasping and loosening and leaving phantom heat behind. Reid still not moving, not able to believe it’s this easy, thinking absurdly of bending to steal a kiss as Sean is bending to peer into the oven. There’s something surreal about hearing anyone call Hotch _dude_ that negates anything else remotely out of the ordinary.

"That’s pleasantly reassuring." Dry as toast, no smile in sight, but Reid’s grinning moronically enough for the both of them and there’s a distinct flash of relief in Hotch’s eyes when he rises without missing another beat. This is what it’s like; family dinner with all cards on the table. Reid’s more used to counting them than fanning his hand for all to see, but he’s adapted before.


End file.
